A/N: This is basically how I envisioned the Harry Potter series ending to please me. It isn't happy, it's about healing, the healing JKR skipped over for the younger readers. And I titled it mute because that's how Harry and Hermione's love was. On mute. Their love was always on mute, they worked together on mute. Everything going unspoken, they didn't need words to tell they loved each other.

Oh and if you celebrate it, Merry Christmas. And to everyone, Happy New Year. May it bring you happiness x


Mute

Before Harry fell asleep he was in his dormitories in Hogwarts, he ached everywhere and he didn't even have enough energy to wait for his sandwich. He had cuts and bruises all over his body but all that was whirling through his worn out mind was the fact that he actually killed Voldemort and images of Hermione and Ron kissing flickering in and out. When he woke up he couldn't remember what he had dreamed about, just harsh colours… and Hermione. He grabbed his glasses that were previously lying on his bedside table beside a cold sandwich.

He walked into the common room to be greeted by the sound of raised voices. Brilliant.

"Ronald. I thought I made this perfectly clear."

"Well sorry I can't quite understand why you would kiss me if you didn't actually want to be my girlfriend."

"I told you, it was the heat of the moment. If it just was just an ordinary-"

"But you did want me. Last year. You hated seeing me with Lavender!"

"Last year. As in the past."

"But if you did then, why not now?" Harry stopped as he caught sight of the owners of the voices, his best friends, he leaned against the wall, watching them from the shadows. Not unlike him they also had not changed from their wrecked clothes and looked as ragged and tortured as he did.

"It wasn't anything big. Just a school girl crush on your best friend. It happens a lot when a girl and boy are together a lot." She looked bored at the conversation.

"And Harry? Why not Harry?" His heart missed a beat at the mention of his name.

Her face softened, "Harry's always been much more than a best friend to me."

"Like a brother."

She hesitated, "Yeah."

"He said that after I left you two in the woods that you cried for days. Surely that means something?"

She sighed and a small grin pulled at the corners of his lips, he could read her mind. She was wishing Ron would just drop it but didn't really have anywhere else to escape to. Everywhere else was littered with dead. His grin dropped. "Yes it means something! That maybe you're my best friend and I missed you and the fact I was scared you were going to get killed!"

"But you were so angry when I came back!"

"Well as soon as I knew you were safe I could be mad at you without worrying about feeling guilty if you died. You left us in the middle of a bloody forest! We could've been caught! Or died! And you wouldn't have known! Of course I was mad!"

Ron shifted, his hands in pockets, "So it's not going to play out like I hoped? We're not going to be that happy couple shining through in the midst of this sadness?" Harry could tell he wasn't expecting a yes.

"I'm sorry."

Pause.

Then she continued, "But we can't be that. No one can. Any couples will be clinging to each other for support, there won't be smiling and laughing for ages. Not properly anyway. They'll comfort each other as they wake up screaming in the middle of the night, when they come across a picture of a dead friend… And you're not that for me." Harry found himself imagining himself waking up to Hermione's comforting arms, coming from behind her and kissing her hair as she shakes with sobs, clutching a photo of Fred… It wasn't happy but it felt right.

Ron ducked his head and walked out of the common room. Hermione watched him leave; her back turned to Harry, she dropped her head and sighed. "He's probably going to join his family," Harry said gently walking towards her.

She jumped and snapped around, after the war they had just been through he didn't blame her. Once she realised it was him she relaxed, "Harry…" She ran a hand along his forehead, along a bloodied gash, "You really need to see someone about that."

"Soon," he promised her, "I just need to wrap my head around things."

She nodded, understanding him, as always, "It doesn't feel like it's actually happened. I feel like we should be huddled together making another crazy plan." He nodded, that's exactly what he felt like, on edge.

"It's quite a let-down," he murmured, "I always expected it to be happy after we got rid of him, even though it seemed so impossible. Rather naive of me. But I'm not surprised at how this feels. I know exactly why it's like this." She nodded limply. "And now I won't even be able to take up the sport of catching you and Ron snogging…"

She avoids his gaze, she's realised she heard most of her conversation with Ron. "But you knew it would always play out like this."

"Yeah," he admitted, "But I would always worry that maybe for once I had read you wrong."

She shook her head, "It's yet to happen." She lifted her head to look at him, "And now that the war is over you can have Ginny." There is an unspoken question hanging in the air.

"We both know her and I aren't going to work. We would if I was still the Harry that I was a year ago but this war has changed us. We're not the same anymore." He tucks a stray hair behind her ear, relishing the fact she's still alive. "But yet you and I are still here. Together."

A weak smile graces her lips, "It's just you and I." And nothing more needs to be said, he understands he perfectly. He takes her hand, their fingers intertwining. They leave the common room to go out and face the world together but not before he dips down and places a light kiss on her lips.

Then eventually with the help of each other the days become more colourful and they learn to laugh without the presence of the long dead. A few years later he gets on one knee. The wedding is small and private but that's just how they want it. For years they seek out their careers, living in a small house in London. She works as a Healer and him an Auror. It's hard at first because it reminds them so much of the war but as always they help each other. Years come and go before they have to move to a bigger house with another room for their unborn child.

So then as Harry drifts to sleep one Autumn evening, as he wraps an arm around his sleeping wife, his hand on her bump he smiles and murmurs to himself, "All is well."